Thank you to Victoria Blisse for inviting me to her blog, I’m honoured and thrilled to be here! I am a great admirer of the Brit Babes and all they have achieved – without which many of us would have had a lot less exciting reading to dig into. And they all inspired me to write my story down, as it happened, for better and worse…

I have love, I have emotional support, but… I want too much from life sometimes. I can’t forget that feeling, that beautiful blue-black velvet abyss. Not having it is like having lost something important, a source of inspiration and eternal life. My blood aches from longing for it. The desire will never go away.

My true erotic adventures “Tough Love” is out this summer from Xcite books, this is a short excerpt:

“I sat down in a black leather chair. He offered me red wine and looked relaxed as he asked me how my week had been. We chatted about life and what we’d been up to, until he stopped listening and stared with darkening eyes at me.

I fell silent and put my wine glass down at the same time as he said, ‘Stand up, I want to look at you.’ I obeyed, lowering my gaze. He still sat down, with his chin in his hand as he took command. ‘Good girl. Now, you came to me for me to take you, to use you. You will be my slut. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Did you get horny from my messages? Do you want me to hurt you and use you the way I described, slut?’

I sighed deeply, but it was starting to sound very good. He didn’t give a bad impression; he was taking his time, not ambushing me but testing the waters to see if I was what he was hoping I’d be. ‘Yes, I want to, Sir.’

‘Good. Let’s see how well you can serve me.’

With some effort, he stood up from the chair and walked around me, coming to stand behind me as he started to speak. ‘You have come here, you have asked me to tie you up and fuck you hard. I will do. And you will beg me.’

‘Yes, Sir.’ I thought Sir sounded a bit lighter than Master, and Master was still Jordan’s title as far as I was concerned, even if he had abdicated. Stephen came up closer, and rested his palms lightly on my shoulders as he started whispering in my left ear. ‘You’re mine now. I do what I want with you and you will serve me, be my slut, and submit to everything I ask of you. Do you understand?’ Almost never before had I fallen so abruptly into the rabbit hole, down the waterfall into the depth. His low pitch of voice, slow enunciation, choice of words – it was all like typing a secret code to my submissive desire. I couldn’t see him, I could only hear his words taking me over, invading my mind, and I was gone. ”

‘You will not come until I have told you to, do you understand? Yes?’

‘Yes, OK.’ I was nodding fervently, thinking I had got myself in over my head – not from a safety point of view, but with someone who could read my desires as if they were written on my forehead. Frighteningly accurate. I knew there was no way he could have figured it out from the sparse information I had given him, but wasn’t sure it was any better news that he played me by ear. If he was acting merely on what he had guessed, or what my presence teased out of his brain and groin, who knew where this would end. He read my mind without even knowing it.

He proceeded to use his riding crop just as he had described (and probably tried out a dozen times before) to push my bra straps down and dig my nipples out. I started breathing faster and more shallowly, expecting the lashes, but he only used the tip to prod and follow the outline of the cup to caress my breast, following the valley between the faint ridges of muscle down towards my bellybutton … When he got to my restrained hands, he stopped. ‘You look amazing like this. And I can do what I want with you. Does that frighten you?’

‘A little. Sir.’

‘Have you tasted the crop before?’

‘No, Sir.’

That was true. Out of all the ingenious implements Christopher had used, for some reason he had never come up with a crop. Given his expertise in corporal punishment and spanking, there must be some reason for it. I thought the cane was supposed to be worse, and I had managed through a fair amount of canings before well-deserved home-cooked dinners in Christopher’s flat. But I realised disclosing that might only lead to quicker escalation, and God only knew where on the sadist scale sweet-talking Stephen was.

The leather leaf travelled past my hip bone, along the hem of my knickers, found its way inside and down along my front slit. I held my hands out somewhat for him to reach better, and obeyed immediately when the order came. ‘Legs wider … more … that’s it, good girl …’ The crop reached in between my legs, inside my panties, massaged my cleft for a few soft but effective strokes and then pulled out again. I was focused, and knew that at some point he’d hit me, somewhere. And when his fingers teased the delicate fabric aside to reach into my wetness, the lash reached my buttocks. I was prepared, but the fingers sliding inside at the same time as the burning pain was such a delicious mix that I let out a sound of longing for what was to come.

He must have approved, for he whispered, ‘You are already soaking, you’re so ripe … You are going to be sore before we’re done tonight, slut,’

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Brief description of book:

“Tough Love is an erotic memoir of a married woman, a mother and business executive, who together with her husband decides to have an open marriage after many years together. The resulting adventures are both expected: exciting sex, strange characters and suspicious neighbours, and unexpected: male escorts sharing their wares for free, wedding invitations where she’s slept with both bride and groom and some remarkable friendships. The story is a declaration of love to London and its people, and all of it is true – it really happened.”

Short bio:

Kate lives in London with her husband and children. By day she is a successful business executive, by night an active participant in the exciting sexual adventures London has to offer. Oh, and she writes about it on the train to work or in bed with one of her lovers.